And Then We Put Peanuts in a Blender
by Leisure
Summary: Full title: And Then We Put Peanuts in a Blender to Drown Out the Storm Inside. Willy Wonka discovers how hard it is to trust someone, while Charlie discovers how hard it is to be a friend. Rated M for future chapters.
1. Prologue

A/N:The full title is incredibly long: And Then We Put Peanuts in a Blender to Drown Out the Storm Inside. I looked at one too many Willy Wonka fanart drawings and then watched the movie. Now I'll go crazy if I don't write me some fiction. It probably won't make a lot of sense, but I don't care.

The forecast called for sunshine with a light breeze. Nobody expected the gray clouds that rolled in from the south and settled themselves above the city. The windows of the world's most famous chocolate factory, which had previously admitted the pale morning light, were suddenly filled instead with a bleak sort of emptiness. However, the dreary weather outside had no effect whatsoever upon the chocolatier and the young man lying in the grass on the ground floor of the factory.

"I'm bored." Willy Wonka interlaced his fingers and stretched his arms out until his knuckles cracked. Charlie winced slightly at the sound.

"What do you want to do?" He asked. Willy Wonka shrugged.

"I don't know. What do you want to do?"

"I don't know." Charlie plucked a blade of grass and rolled it into a ball. "What haven't we done today?" Willy Wonka sat up and adjusted his hat.

"We haven't blown something up," he declared. "Let's blow something up."

"What?" Charlie rolled onto his back and stared at the factory ceiling.

"How about a really big peppermint?" Willy Wonka suggested. "That would be fun."

"And we can layer the dust on top of chocolate bars." Charlie picked another blade of grass and flicked it into the air. "Get a start on the Christmas candy." Willy Wonka smiled and got to his feet.

"Why not?" He offered his hand to Charlie. "Come on." Charlie took his mentor's hand and pulled himself up. Willy Wonka's glove squeaked. Charlie enjoyed the sound because it was another reminder that Willy Wonka trusted him enough to touch his hand. Granted, Charlie had known Willy Wonka for a long time, but even the smallest of victories was still worth celebrating.

Charlie smiled to himself and followed Willy Wonka to the chocolate river, where their beloved boat lay waiting.


	2. Just Another Day

A/N: Next chapter. Whatever. It's short. Yeah. I've decided to deliberately leave Charlie's age ambiguous in this story. Yep.

Exploding the giant peppermint was a fantastic endeavor. Charlie hardly took notice of the rain outside as the peppermint dust fluttered down to the floor.

"That was fantastic," Willy Wonka said, brushing the peppermint from his hat.

"Exactly the adjective I was searching for," Charlie replied. "What now?" Willy Wonka grinned.

"Dust angels," he said simply, and dropped to the floor. Charlie had always marveled at the way Willy Wonka could simply go from standing to lying down without a middle step. Charlie had tried it himself a few times, but his elbows were none-too pleased about the whole thing. He sometimes wondered if Willy Wonka could feel pain at all.

Charlie lay down across from Willy Wonka and set about making an angel. He'd made hundreds of snow angels over the years, but never a peppermint dust angel. In fact, he was probably the first person in the world to make one.

"Finished!" Willy Wonka stood up carefully and re-brushed himself off. Charlie got to his feet and examined his angel. It was all right, except that one wing went a little higher than the other. Willy Wonka's, on the other hand, was beautiful. Two smooth arches formed the wings. Everything was perfect.

"Who taught you to make angels like that?" Charlie asked. Willy Wonka seemed confused by the question.

"I…don't remember," he said, curling one hand into a fist. "There was this one time…" His glove squeaked. Charlie was about to speak, but Willy Wonka had already retreated into his head. Charlie went back to making dust angels and waited for Willy Wonka to let go of whatever memory the question had reminded him of.


	3. No Spill Blood

A/N: I am going somewhere with this. I swears.

About an hour later, the storm showed no signs of letting up. Charlie and his mentor had abandoned the dust angels and were standing in the center of the Invention Room, staring up at the everlasting gobstopper machine.

The machine had shut down without warning, leaving Willy Wonka rather upset and Charlie rather puzzled. Two Oompa Loompas had set up ladders on opposite sides of the machine, but so far, they hadn't figured out what was wrong.

"I was hoping to put the gobstoppers into production by the end of the year," Willy Wonka muttered, pacing up and down. "It can't stop working now, it just can't."

"The Oompa Loompas will fix it, won't they?" Charlie asked.

"Of course they won't!" Willy Wonka said, shaking his head. "I designed it; I'm the only one who knows how it works."

"So you're going to fix it?"

"I'm going to find out what's wrong first," Willy Wonka said. "Then I can fix it." Hearing him, the Oompa Loompas climbed down the ladders and scurried off.

"May I help you?" Charlie asked.

"No," Willy Wonka replied. "It's-" he paused. "It's dangerous." Charlie had never heard Willy Wonka use the word "dangerous" before.

"If it's dangerous, then I should help," Charlie said.

"No you shouldn't," Willy Wonka retorted. "You could get hurt."

"So could you," Charlie pointed out.

"Okay, okay," Willy Wonka relented. "But," he said, sounding unusually serious, "you need to do exactly what I say, okay?"

"Okay," Charlie said.

"Right." Willy Wonka began to climb up the ladder. "Climb up the other ladder," he called. Charlie did so. The ladder hadn't seemed that high when he was on the ground. When Charlie got to the top, Willy Wonka opened a small panel at the side of the gobstopper machine and looked around.

"Charlie, press the green button." Charlie found a row of different colored buttons just above his head and pressed the green one. Something inside the machine popped.

"Oh, Bob Saget!" Willy Wonka pulled back a lever and reached still further into the gears.

"What?" Charlie leaned around the side to look.

"Something's stuck in the gears." Willy Wonka pulled another lever and ripped out a handful of torn wires. "Press the red button." Charlie pressed the red button. The machine sputtered. A few sparks showered down from the top.

"Mr. Wonka?" Charlie bit his lip.

"I've nearly got it." Willy Wonka was in the machine up to his shoulder. "I think it's an orange gobstopper."

"Mr. Wonka, won't the machine start up again when you take the gobstopper out?" Charlie asked.

"Oh, yeah…" Willy Wonka frowned.

"Maybe we could reach a pole in or something," Charlie suggested.

"No we couldn't," Willy Wonka snapped. "If I let go now, I might lose it." A terrible grinding sound rose up from deep inside the machine and sparks sprayed from the seams. Charlie had to duck to avoid them.

"Charlie, get down," Willy Wonka ordered.

"But-"

"Get down." Willy Wonka repeated. "Do as I say." Charlie climbed down the ladder. It seemed like the machine was ready to explode. Charlie stood back and watched Willy Wonka. His heartbeat was in his ears. Suddenly, Willy Wonka pulled his arm out. The machine roared to life. Charlie was certain that his pulse would break through his skin. But a second later, Willy Wonka had jumped off the ladder and landed gracefully on the floor.

"That was a close one," he said, adjusting the brooch at his throat. Charlie's breath returned.

"I thought-" he began, but then he noticed the cut on Willy Wonka's left hand and his breath left him all over again.

"What?" Willy Wonka looked completely puzzled. "Charlie, you look kinda pale." Charlie couldn't speak. Willy Wonka lifted his hand and examined it. "Oh."

"Let me look at it." Charlie's voice shook. Willy Wonka held his arm out to Charlie. His glove was slit across the palm, as was the skin beneath it. The cut ran down the inside of his forearm and stopped a few inches from his elbow. It was not bleeding.

"Huh." Willy Wonka raised his arm and flexed his fingers. "I guess I wasn't fast enough." Charlie could see the tendons moving. He felt sick.

"Oh my God." Charlie's heart began to hammer in his throat. "Oh my God. Doesn't it…doesn't it hurt?"

"What?" Willy Wonka closed his hand into a fist. "No."

"I'm going to get help," Charlie said hoarsely.

"Why?" Willy Wonka asked curiously.

"Because you could die!" Charlie felt an unfamiliar panic rising inside him. "You need stitches, or-or something!"

"I'll be fine, Charlie," Willy Wonka said reassuringly. "I'll have an Oompa Loompa take care of it."

"A bloody _Oompa Loompa_?" Charlie gasped. "What do they know?" Willy Wonka looked offended.

"A lot, I'll have you know," he sniffed. "They're quite good at stitching."

"Bloody hell," Charlie murmured.

"You don't look very well," Willy Wonka said. "Do you want to sit down?" Charlie nodded and practically collapsed on the floor. Willy Wonka sat beside him, looking concerned. Charlie took a few deep breaths and looked at the cut again. It was bleeding, but not very much.

"Doesn't it hurt when you cut yourself?" Charlie asked. "Like, if you got a paper cut?" Willy Wonka shrugged.

"Well, yeah…"

"So doesn't_ that_ hurt?" Charlie pointed to the gash. Willy Wonka ran his finger down the length of it.

"I guess."

"You guess?" Charlie repeated weakly. "Mr. Wonka, I don't understand. I don't understand what you mean." Willy Wonka sighed. He didn't speak for a few minutes, but Charlie could tell that the chocolatier wasn't thinking about his past.

"It's like this," Willy Wonka said at last. "I don't feel things the same way you do." He pressed his fingertips to the cut. "And I can't compare how I feel with how you feel, because I'm not you. But this-" He dug his finger into the wound a little and Charlie flinched. "I don't mind it."

"You really don't mind?" Charlie said softly.

"No," Willy Wonka said. "And that's the best I can explain it." Charlie didn't know what to say to that. After a moment, he and Willy Wonka stood up at the same time.

"We're getting good at that," Charlie mused.

"Yeah." Willy Wonka flexed his fingers again and watched a drop of blood ooze down his hand. "I'd better get this cleaned up," he said. "Do you want to come with me?"

Charlie tired hard to smile.

"Okay."


	4. Pain

A/N: Has anybody else noticed that Johnny Depp's Willy Wonka seems to be on a permatrip? Seriously, since I've started this fic, I've gained some experience with LSD…won't go into detail there…and Willy Wonka acts _exactly_ like my friends do when they're tripping on acid. No joke. Oh yeah, and I hate this chapter. But it's all I could think of. Dammit.

Evening found Charlie and his mentor sitting in one of Willy Wonka's many large, blindingly white bathrooms. Willy Wonka's pinstriped jacket was draped over a chair, and Willy Wonka himself was sitting cross-legged on the floor with his arm resting on a white bath towel and his shirtsleeve rolled up to his elbow. An Oompa Loompa was bent over Willy Wonka's forearm, carefully suturing the wound that Willy Wonka had received earlier.

The cut had begun to bleed steadily, but the blood was trickling out in thin streams. It was slowly soaking the towel beneath Willy Wonka's arm. This didn't seem to bother the Oompa Loompa in the slightest; he simply wiped the cut every few seconds and continued his work. It made Charlie feel a little sick to look, but still he knelt beside Willy Wonka and watched the needle glide back and forth.

"Mr. Wonka?" Charlie sat up straighter and shook his hair out of his eyes. Willy Wonka looked at Charlie from under the brim of his hat.

"Hm?"

"Doesn't that hurt at all?" Charlie asked. Willy Wonka shrugged.

"A little." He closed his fingers and a line of blood dripped from his wrist. "I thought we went over this."

"I guess it's still hard for me to understand," Charlie said. "If I got a cut like that, I don't know if I could stop crying."

"We're different," Willy Wonka said simply. Charlie certainly couldn't disagree with that. The Oopma Loompa finished a few more stitches before Charlie asked another question.

"Where did the needle and thread come from?"

"From the first aid kit, silly," Willy Wonka replied, pointing to the white case lying on the tile beside him.

"No," Charlie said, "I mean, where did you get them?"

"A medical supplier." Willy Wonka flinched as the needle entered his skin. "Yeah, that one stung a little." Charlie peered into the first aid kit. It looked like it belonged in a hospital instead of a chocolate factory.

"Why do you have this? There are an awful lot of tools in here."

"Accidents happen," Willy Wonka sighed. "They don't happen a lot around here, but…" His voice trailed off and he went back to staring at his new stitches.

"This isn't the first time you've been hurt at the factory," Charlie said. It wasn't a question. Willy Wonka shook his head.

"Nope." Charlie was curious now.

"What else?" He asked. Willy Wonka sighed again, raised his right hand to his mouth, and pulled off his glove with his teeth. Charlie couldn't help but gasp as the glove fell to the floor. Willy Wonka's right hand was covered in small, raised scars. Each one was about two centimeters long, and they ran from his wrist all the way out to the tips of his fingers.

"What happened?" Charlie practically choked on the words.

"The machine that makes the chocolate bars was being stupid." Willy Wonka rubbed his thumb and middle finger together. "It broke down." Charlie reached out to touch one of the scars without thinking. Willy Wonka tensed, but he did not pull away. Charlie ran his fingers lightly across Willy Wonka's skin, looking for a spot on the chocolatier's hand that wasn't scarred. He couldn't find one.

Charlie noticed that Willy Wonka's breathing had become shallow, so he went back to exploring the first aid kit. There were tools in it that he'd seen on television shows.

"Won't your mom and dad be wondering where you are?" Willy Wonka asked, looking at his pocket watch. "It's past six."

"They won't mind if we're late for dinner," Charlie reassured him. "You _are _staying for dinner, right?" Willy Wonka bit down on his lip a little. For a moment he seemed completely lost. But then he smiled.

"Sure."

A/N: Fuck. Just…fuck.


End file.
